The Saddle Talk Series
by Victoria Quynn
Summary: Talks from the trail - a series of short stories of the boys' conversations as they ride. Most from the vault but some newer.
1. Introduction

Saddle Talk: Introduction

Our pair of reforming ex-outlaws ride along, seemingly on an endless trail. In between their stops at one nondescript backwater of a town after another, they spend long hours in the saddle. But how do they spend that time?

We can imagine Heyes reading a book and Curry dozing.

Or, the brown-eyed partner planning out loud or to himself while the other is ever alert, the blue eyes scanning the landscape.

Or, the silver-tongued former gang leader expounding to the point of drone to the ears of the Fastest Gun in the West.

Or, the self-proclaimed genius Champeen Tracker of All Southern Utah doing the thinking for both of them, and the other letting him.

Or, perhaps they're both in companionable silence.

Now, the latter is not generally of much interest to us as readers, but the talk in the saddle might be. So, after many requests to put the very old but ongoing Saddle Talk series in one place, your humble author finally got her act in gear and is doing so here. Each spruced-up story will be posted as a separate chapter with appropriate title. Please join us and let us know your thoughts as we eavesdrop on the guys as they ride.


	2. Saddle Talk: The First

Saddle Talk, The First: Close Since Our Kid Days (Or, How Heyes Got Curry's Goat)

"Kid, do you remember when we were kids, how close we were to the kids?"

Curry glanced at his partner with skepticism. "Heyes, you okay? You're repeatin' yourself and not makin' any sense."

"Sure I am. The time when we worked with those kids."

"You mean at the home?"

"No," Heyes replied, "when we were still with our folks."

Curry thought for a second. "I don't remember workin' with any kids except our brothers and sisters."

"No, not family – the other kids. How could you forget? We were sorta close to those kids for a while, working with them every day and all. They were kinda cute 'til they grew up."

"Heyes, you talkin' about girls?" Curry smiled. "Glad it's changed, but back then I didn't really like playin' with girls, and neither did you."

The brown-haired man paused to think a moment before continuing. "Well, yeah, some of them were female, but just the kids in general."

"When was that?"

"Oh, the summer I was probably about eight or nine, so you'd have been six or seven."

Curry's brow furrowed. "When did we work with anybody else? Besides our families, I only remember playin' with other kids."

"Well, yeah, we played with the kids, too, but it was more like work, at least for me. We did kinda get close to them sometimes, being around them every day and all. And we both had our favorites."

The blue eyes expressed puzzlement. "Heyes, I have no idea what you're talkin' about. Maybe I'm just hungry and tired from all this ridin', or maybe you're just not makin' any sense. Why ya rememberin' that anyway?"

Heyes shrugged. "I don't know. Was just thinking of how it was when we were kids. Things we used to do and that sort of stuff. Don't you ever think about when we were kids?"

Curry considered the question. "Sometimes, but not much. Not usually unless somethin' reminds me of somethin' back then, or you start talkin' about it, like now."

"Well, guess I do about the same. But for some reason I was thinking about those kids when we were kids. I'm not sure why."

"Heyes, I'm tired. Can't ya find anything better to do than keep me awake with some nonsense about kids when we were kids? I don't get it, and I'm not sure I want to!"

"Don't be so proddy, Kid. Don't you remember the summer we helped Old Man McKeever out on his farm?"

"Umm … Oh yeah, the summer ya kept gettin' my goat because I couldn't keep up with ya in all the work?"

"That's the one."

Curry reminisced. "But I was kinda little. And I think my pa only let me do it because you'd be there to watch out for me and all, just like ya still do. Only now I'm watchin' your back, too."

"Yup, you definitely do your part in keeping me around, Kid. You know how much I appreciate it, too. And I kept getting your goat because it was so easy to do and there were so many of them around. _That_ was real easy to do!"

Blue eyes rolled. "Unfortunately …"

Heyes smirked. "So you remember the kids now?"


	3. Saddle Talk: Holidays and Fireworks

Saddle Talk: Holidays and Fireworks

"Heyes, I don't think we're gonna find a doc on a holiday."

"If not, maybe the liveryman or blacksmith are around. Worst case, we can always try honey."

Kid Curry spoke over his shoulder. "Honey? Ain't that an old wives' tale?"

Hannibal Heyes shrugged. "I don't know, but we won't know until we try it."

"That's if the mercantile is even open to _buy_ honey. Probably nothin' will be."

"Kid, you gotta look on the bright side. Even on a holiday some establishments have to be open. People from the local ranches will probably come into town for the festivities, and saddle tramps like us might want to celebrate. Anyway, it's a chance we gotta take. We can't go much further riding double."

Curry sighed. "That's for sure. The horses need a rest, and so do we."

"You're right, and we have enough for a nice hotel room with a bathtub and steak dinners."

"But not enough for another horse."

Heyes smiled. "Come on, Kid. For once, we're flush. We'll get off the trail for a few days and relax and let the horses rest and that wound heal up." His eyes twinkled and dimples flashed. "And we can put the extra toward a decent poker stake to get enough to buy another one if that wound's worse than we think."

"Is that why you weren't watchin' where you were goin' – so you could have an excuse to play poker? Like you need one! If your nose wasn't in that durned book all the time …"

"Kid, you would think the horse would be able to watch where it was going all by itself and not step in that gopher hole. Besides, I was reading about Tom Sawyer's Fourth of July."

"I hope he had a nicer one than we're havin'."

"Except for my horse, we're doing fine. It rained on his."

For some reason, this news sparked Curry's interest. "The whole day?"

"Uh huh. And then he got the measles and spent two weeks in bed."

The small spark of interest deflated. "So they needed a doc, too? I hope his ma was able to find one on the holiday."

"It was after the holiday, so a doc was around."

"But we won't find one. Dang, Heyes!"

The dark-haired man swept an arm toward the blue sky and few fair weather clouds. "But our Fourth of July won't have rain."

Curry shook his head in disgust. "Fine, we won't be rained on. But what if we know the sheriff and we need to hightail it out of there? We have two tired horses and one can't be rid, and we don't have enough to buy another one, so we're stuck. We'll be able to enjoy the fireworks through the jail window _because the jail might be the only place in town that's open!_ "

"Calm down, Kid," Heyes soothed. "This area's new to us and I don't think the town's too big, so it's pretty good odds we won't know the sheriff."

"Only 'pretty good'? You're usually bettin' on odds that're better than that, Heyes."

His partner rationalized. "Since we're new here, I don't know enough about the place to weigh the odds better than 'pretty good,' but I'll bet they're way better than that. Kid, don't forget we're a long way from home, so it's pretty good odds that any sheriff out these parts ain't expecting Hannibal Heyes and Kid Curry to come riding down main street hooting and hollering to rob the bank with the noise of fireworks muffling a blast to the safe." He smiled dreamily. "But, those were the days."

"Maybe."

"Oh, there's no doubt about that, Kid. Those were _certainly_ the days."

"But we're not goin' back."

"Nope."

"What if your 'pretty good' odds are wrong, and we have to steal fresh horses? Then what, Mr. Genius?"

Heyes was silent as he pondered the question.

Curry turned in the saddle to look at his partner and met Heyes's gaze.

The dark-eyed man grinned. "I'm still here."

Kid turned front again to watch the way ahead. "So you don't know what we do if we have to go back to stealin'?"

"Kid, you have to have faith in the odds. It's the Fourth of July, we're flush, and we're going to enjoy the holiday. The odds are we won't know the sheriff, so we won't have to steal horses. And even if we did, I'm sure I can talk our way out of it somehow."

"How?"

"Oh ye of little faith." Heyes thought another minute. "We can tell them we're bounty hunters on a hot trail."

Curry rolled his eyes. "Fine. As long as we don't tell them we're after Kid Curry and That- other-fella."

Heyes chuckled. "Nope. Hannibal Heyes and What's-his-name will be furthest from their minds. We'll tell them we're after the Red Sash Gang and wire Lom to back us up if it comes to that. He's always our ace in the hole, isn't he?"

"I think he's gettin' tired of that. We're supposed to be makin' it all legal on our own."

Heyes nodded. "And we are and Lom knows that. But he also knows sometimes we need a little help keeping to that deal we got from the governor …"

"But he's already puttin' his neck out for us."

"Yes, he is. And since he has almost as much to lose as we do, odds are it's in his best interest to back us up if we need it."

"That's your whole plan, Heyes? It's soundin' pretty thin."

"Just playing the odds, Kid. Gotta keep your eyes on the odds."

Curry sighed, loudly, and shook his head. Sometimes it just made no sense to argue with his partner's silver tongue.

They rode in companionable silence until they reached the town limits. Trailing Heyes's horse behind them, they kept their heads down as they rode past the sheriff's office. They did not know him.

The doctor's office had a closed sign in the door. Odds were he could probably be reached in an emergency, but perhaps a horse with a wound on his leg would not qualify.

They found the livery stable at the far end of town. It was open and the stable hand said he would doctor the wound for an extra two bits a day. Flush as they were and with the odds going their way, they did not attempt to talk the price down.

Continuing the trend, they found and splurged on a room at the hotel overlooking the main street and sheriff's office with two beds and a bathtub. After washing off the trail dust and changing into clean clothes, they enjoyed a steak dinner with all the trimmings in the hotel dining room.

Heyes sipped his wine. "See, Thaddeus. What'd I tell you about the odds being pretty good?"

Curry sighed. "Do you want me to tell you you were right and I was wrong?"

"No. Just enjoy the holiday, even if the doc isn't around."

"Okay." Kid raised a glass to toast. "Here's to the fireworks staying on the holiday and not following us out of town."

Heyes grinned. "I'll drink to that."


	4. Saddle Talk: A Dark and Stormy Night

Saddle Talk: A Dark and Stormy Night

"It was a dark and stormy night …"

"No, it ain't, Heyes. It's a nice day."

Hannibal Heyes took his eyes off the trail to regard his partner. "You're right, Kid. It's a bright and beautiful day."

"Right. So why ya talkin' about some dark and gloomy night?"

"Dark and _stormy_ night, Kid. I was just thinking about the opening line of the book I'm reading."

Jed "Kid" Curry thought a moment. "Oh, the one with the wind and the rain and the housetops in London you were readin' to me?"

"Yup."

"It has too many fancy words. I told ya not to bother because it had a hard time gettin' to the point."

Heyes chuckled. "It said what it had to say."

Curry would have none of it. "Nah. It had all those fancy words for just sayin' it was windy and rainin' hard."

"That's how a lot of writers write, Kid – nice and descriptive."

The blond ex-outlaw raised a brow. "Well, it's not how this writer writes."

"You're not a writer."

"Sure I am, and so are you. We write telegrams, notes, all sorts of stuff like that."

Heyes yanked the reins to sidestep a big rut in the road, before turning his attention back to the conversation. "But I'm talking about writing a book. We're not writers like that."

"Well, that fancy stuff ain't needed. All you need to do is get the point across, short and sweet-like." Curry reminisced. "You remember that time you wrote that fancy-soundin' robbery note?"

Heyes got defensive. "I was reading a book of poetry and wanted to be a little poetic."

"And you were so good at it, the teller had no idea what he was readin' and asked you to explain it, and we lost so much time, we had to hightail it outta there before they could get the sheriff." Curry laughed.

Heyes rolled his eyes. "That was early on, Kid. I never made that mistake again. And might I remind you that was the last time we tried a daylight holdup?"

"Just teasin' ya, Heyes. No need for any notes after that."

"But if we _would've_ tried another daylight robbery, the note would've been short, sweet, and to the point."

"I know. Wasn't it around that time you started likin' Mark Twain? He pretty much gets to the point and doesn't write that fancy, so you would've taken a lesson from him instead of some fancy poetry book."

"Nothing wrong with poetry, Kid."

"Didn't say there was."

Heyes noted, "And Mark Twain uses fancy language every now and again."

Curry pondered this. "Yeah, but it's more like real life."

"None of it's real life. It's all fiction."

Kid Curry hid a mischievous grin from his partner by looking straight ahead. " _Friction_ , Heyes? If it's such a dark and stormy night, we won't be able to make any kind of fire."

"No, Kid, not friction … _fiction_."

" _Friction_ … that's what I said!"

"Now, don't go getting proddy on me. I said ' _fiction_.' It's kind of like a made-up story."

Curry put a hand to his face to stifle a chuckle, composing himself before continuing. "Like Tom Sawyer?"

Heyes was well into explanatory mode now. "Yeah. Tom Sawyer is fiction."

"I thought Tom Sawyer was a boy."

"He is, but that's also the name of a fiction book."

Curry bit his tongue, on purpose. He pretended to reason. "So fiction's just another name for books? Never heard them called _that_ before. Sounds like more fancy words instead of just callin' a book a book!"

"Well, Kid, a book _is_ a book. But not all books are fiction."

"Huh?"

"Some books are fiction, and some are non-fiction."

So absorbed was Heyes in speaking, he did not notice Kid's merriment. On a roll, Curry's eyes danced, and he dared not look at his partner.

"Is that like make-believe books? It doesn't make any sense."

"You're right. It doesn't make any sense because there _are_ no make-believe books because they're real and you can hold them in your hand. But there _are_ books that are make-believe, and that's fiction."

"So, there're books that ain't fiction?"

"Yup. They're non-fiction."

"So what kinds ain't fiction?"

"Anything that's not made up."

"For instance?"

Heyes' countenance reflected deep thought. "Hmm, well – philosophy, archie-ology – that sorta thing."

"They're not fiction?"

"Non-fiction."

"That what's I said!"

"No, Kid. You said 'not,' with a 't,' and it should be 'non,' with an 'n.'"

" _Non_ -fiction?"

"That's right."

"So, a dime novel …"

"Is fiction."

"But what if it's true?"

"Then it's non-fiction, but a novel is made up."

"Okay, so I read non-fiction."

Heyes corrected him. "No, Kid. Most dime novels are made up, so they're fiction most of the time."

"Most of the time. But sometimes they might be true."

Heyes smirked. "Doubtful. They might have had some basis in fact, but by the time the writer's done with the story, it's a far cry from the truth."

Curry could no longer contain himself and burst out laughing. "I know, Heyes."

The dark-haired man gave him the side-eye. "Yeah, you _should_ know this stuff. So why all the questions? Playing dumb?"

"Just tryin' to josh ya, Joshua!"

Heyes smiled. "You're not getting my goat, Kid."

"Ain't I, Heyes? Ya keep gettin' mine. What's the old sayin', turnabout is fair play?"

"Kid, a turnabout's also a merry-go-round."

"That's nice. Now don't go startin' again."

"It was a dark and stormy night …"


	5. Saddle Talk: Invitation to a Dance

Saddle Talk: Invitation to a Dance

"Kid, if you pull at that tie one more time, you're liable to choke yourself!"

"I just want to look my best for all those pretty girls." Kid Curry glanced at his partner. "It wouldn't hurt if your tie was tied right, neither."

As usual, Hannibal Heyes had a confident air about him. "Mine's tied just fine. Checked it before we left the bunkhouse."

"It's too loose."

"It's fine."

"Suit yourself."

"I will." Heyes paused a moment. "You know, Kid, I've been thinking … Can't remember the last time we got dressed up to go to a barn dance."

Curry cogitated. "Hmm, I don't remember, either." A beat. "It's been so long, I hope we remember _how_ to dance. I don't want to go steppin' on anybody's toes."

"We'll be fine, Kid. We probably shouldn't do much anyway so we don't stand out making fools of ourselves." Heyes' stomach growled. "Besides, it doesn't hurt that they're having a spread. Something other than Cookie's chuckwagon's gonna taste real good."

Curry grinned. "My mouth's waterin' already!"

"Just don't go embarrassing yourself with so many helpings you won't be light on your feet, or on your guard. Still need you to watch my back."

The blond man frowned. "Who would we run into in town? We've been here goin' on a month and no one's recognized us yet."

"Maybe so, but we don't want to go pressing our luck too much either. You never know when someone's gonna recognize us."

"Aw, come on, Heyes, you're spoilin' the fun before it even starts!"

"Sorry. Just not sure this was the best idea. But, you're right – we need to get off the range at least once."

"I'm right?" Curry raised a brow in suspicion. "What've you got up your sleeve, Heyes?"

"Me?" Full-fledged dimpled innocence was on display. "Nothing, Kid. Just admitting you're right …"

Wide-eyed, Kid smiled in skeptical appreciation.

"… For once."

Blue eyes rolled. He spurred his horse a few yards ahead.

Heyes caught up. "Kid, you're right because it'll be good for us to have a break from the stock, although I'd rather have an invitation to that big poker game at the Frontier Club I keep hearing about."

"Even if you'd gotten that kind of invite, how would you play with no stake?" Curry took a more conciliatory tone. "Look, let's just relax and enjoy ourselves tonight, okay?"

"I'll try, but you know I'd rather sit in on a game." Heyes paused a moment. "And look at it this way – if I won big enough, you wouldn't have to stare at a beef's hind quarters anymore."

Curry's brow furrowed. "Didn't think of it that way. It _would_ be nice to be able to quit this and move on. I've had enough back-breakin' work in the last few weeks to last a lifetime, but I guess we do what we gotta do."

"Truer words were never spoken, Kid."

"That's twice you're admittin' I'm right. Somethin's goin' on."

"Nothing's going on. Just for you I'm gonna forget about poker and enjoy the evening. After all, how bad can it be – pretty ladies, better food, and a night off the range."

Curry brightened. "Gee, Heyes, you're so good to me!"

"And don't you ever forget it, Kid! … Hey, no need to scowl!"


	6. Saddle Talk: Blessings

Saddle Talk: Blessings

Aaachooo!

"Bless you."

"Thanks."

Aaaachoooo!

"Bless you."

"Thanks."

The wind whipped up the dust. The horses snorted.

Aaaaachhhhoooooo!

"Bless you."

"Thanks."

"Geez, Kid, you've been sneezing nonstop since breakfast. Next time put a finger under your nose. It might save ya the sneeze."

"I'll remember that."

They rode a ways in silence.

Aaaaaaachhhhhhoooooooooo!

"That was a big one. God bless you."

Watery blue eyes glanced at Heyes. Curry was miserable. "I know. Thanks."

"You didn't try the finger."

"Forgot. Next time."

"Maybe try blowing your nose before another one starts. Swallowing all that stuff can't be good for ya."

Curry fished a bandana out of his pocket and blew. Folding the discharge inside, he blew again, and a third time. Finally, he balled the cloth and returned it to his pocket.

"That's a lot of snot," Heyes noted. "Feeling better?"

"I guess."

A few minutes passed.

"No more sneezing," the dark-haired partner remarked.

Blue eyes rolled. The tone was sarcastic. "You're an observant one, Heyes."

"Nope, that's your job, Kid. I do the planning, you do the watching."

Another gust kicked up the trail dust.

Achoo!

Heyes waved a hand in front of him to clear the air around him. Curry did the same.

Achooo!

"Bless you."

"Thanks."

"Kid, what is it with you today?"

"Nose itches."

"No kidding."

"So if you knew, why'd ya ask?"

"No reason. Just making conversation. You don't have to get proddy, Kid."

"I'm not gettin' proddy! Can't we talk about somethin' else besides my nose?"

Heyes thought. "Okay. How about the weather? It's kinda windy and dusty today."

"No kiddin'! Why don'tcha just rub it in."

"I just did." Heyes grinned.

Curry shook his head. His partner sure could be annoying sometimes!

[Insert not-always-so-companionable silence where conversation might have been.]

"Kid?"

"What?"

"What do you think about heading north for a while?"

"North where?"

Heyes shrugged. "Where would you like to go?"

Curry pondered. "Somewhere warmer and less dusty."

The silver tongue went silent for a few moments while he pondered possibilities. Finally, he suggested, "San Francisco? We haven't seen Soapy in a long time."

"Not warm enough."

"Texas? It's warmer."

"Too dusty."

"Denver?"

"Too crowded."

"Crowded wasn't a condition."

"I just made it one."

Heyes thought a moment. "Hmm, there's no place left. Guess there's no pleasing Goldilocks."

Curry whined, "Don't call me Goldilocks."

"Wasn't. It's just the storybook …"

"I know!"

"Who's getting proddy now?"

The blond man pleaded, "Heyes …"

"Sorry you're not feeling so good, Kid."

"Thanks. It's just this sneezin' …" Achoo!

"Bless you."

"Thanks."

"Maybe you're just under the weather, Kid. We can look up that fake doc to check ya out."

"That'll be the day. And I'm not under the weather!"

"Proddy's not becoming. Whatever it is, he can find out."

Achoo!

"Bless you."

Curry moaned, "Thanks."

"Then what are you – sick? It's just another way of saying the same thing."

"No."

"Then what?"

A pause. "Sneezy."

Heyes spoke definitively. "Yes, you are."

Achoo!

"God bless you."

"Thanks."

"You know, Kid, Grandma Curry would be real proud of me today."

"Why?"

"Because I've asked the Good Lord to bless you a lot."

"It's a sayin'."

"Yes, it is. But I think Grandma Curry would still appreciate the blessings."

Kid sighed. "Maybe so. But you always were her favorite." Achoo!

"Bless you."

"Thanks, but it's not doin' any good."

"Blow again."

Curry did as instructed, once again pulling the balled up bandana from his pocket. "Eww!"

"What?"

"It's still wet from the last time."

"Don't you have another one?"

"Yeah, but I want that one to stay dry in case the dust gets any worse and I need it for a mask."

"A mask would do you good now."

With a frown and side-eye to his partner, the blond ex-outlaw carefully unfolded the discharge-riddled cloth. Once again he put it to his nose and blew. The frown lines deepened as he tried to find a dry spot. Successful, again he blew. And again. Sighing, he returned it to his pocket, distastefully wiping his hands on his pants.

Achoo!

"Bless you."

"Thanks."

Achoooo!

"Bless you."

"Thanks." A beat. "Heyes?"

"Yeah?"

"Next time don't say anything."

"What do you mean?"

"No blessin'."

"You sure, Kid? I don't think the Good Lord or Grandma Curry would take kindly to that."

"Blessin's ain't helped so far and Grandma Curry's not here. Trust me."

"Okay. We'll try it your way."

"Good." After a moment, Curry urged, "Talk about somethin' else."

"Like what?"

"I don't know. You're the one with the silver tongue!"

"Now, now, Kid. You're getting proddy again."

"I'm not proddy – just frustrated!"

Heyes soothed, "Calm down. Being riled up is just gonna make it worse."

Curry sighed yet again and took a deep, audible breath. "Okay, I'm calm."

"Good." Heyes paused. "Okay, tell you what I'm gonna do."

"What?"

"Let me think …"

Time passed. The dimpled one was deep in planning mode.

"Heyes?"

"Hmm?"

Acchoo!

Silence.

Achoo!

More silence.

Achooooo!

The brown-eyed ex-outlaw whistled a jaunty tune.

"Heyes!?"

The darker man continued to whistle softly to himself.

"Heyes?!" Curry turned red in the face.

Heyes smiled. "Yes?"

"Why aren't you answerin' me?"

Heyes shrugged. He whistled a different tune, louder this time.

"Enough with the whistlin' already. Next thing you know you'll be whistlin' Dixie!"

Heyes raised a brow, smiled, and started whistling Dixie.

"Heyes!"

The strains of the unofficial anthem of the late Confederacy continued.

"Heyes!"

When he finished, Heyes smiled sweetly, dimples on full display. "Uh huh?"

Curry still sported a crimson countenance. "You didn't have to take me so literal."

"Of course I did. It's what you wanted."

"Heyes, one of these days I swear I'm gonna …"

"Gonna what, Kid?"

"Flatten ya!" After a moment, Curry calmed himself. "Dang, Heyes!"

The ex-outlaw leader chuckled.

Kid remarked, "It's not funny!"

"Sure it is."

"No, it ain't."

"Yup, it is."

"Why?"

Heyes eyed his partner. He thought Curry's expression accusatory, or at least suspicious. "Because."

Kid glowered but willed his patience to the fore to play this out. Speaking deliberately, he asked, "Because, why?"

Heyes shrugged his shoulders, the silly smile plastered on his face. "You know, just because."

"Heyes!"

The dark-haired one laughed. Once again, he had caught his partner off-guard.

"It's not funny."

"Yes, it is. It's hilarious!"

"What is?"

"How we cured you."

"Cured …" A thought struck Curry. "What do you mean, 'cured'?"

"Let's just ride and you'll find out soon enough."

After a few minutes, Kid noted, "I'm not sneezin'."

"Uh huh." Heyes lifted a brow. "Yup, got ya good and mad and the sneezing stopped. You can take a break from it and just ride."

And they did. Quietly.


End file.
